Handicap Accessibility
by TheAmethystRiddle
Summary: In which House tricks Cuddy into making the hospital more accesible for the disabled. Slight House/Wilson


****

I wrote this fic for L-Sama on DeviantART. She drew a hilarious pic, and the idea was just too good to pass up. I was ecstatic when she told me I could write a story. Please check out the picture at l-sama.deviantart. com/art/House-and-Wilson-19272326 (I had to put a space in there between the dot and the com or it wouldn't let me put it, so copy-paste it into your browser and delete the space!) You must!

P.S. I'm sorry, towards the end it gets a bit odd, I was a little more sleep-deprived than usual. And I think maybe Wilson's a little OOC, he's too enthusiastic about the carts, maybe. I'm sorry again, I'll shut up and let you read the fic. That's what you're here for, anyway.

**House is not mine, dammit. It belongs to Fox and David Shore.**

* * *

"This hospital is not handicap accessible."

Cuddy looked up from her mountains of paperwork.

"What?"

House stood in the doorway of her office, tapping his cane on the doorframe.

"The elevators aren't big enough, and the doors are too small, and also the elevators aren't big enough."

"You said the elevators twice."

"And they're too far from places in general."

"Meaning the vending machines. Blame the budget." Cuddy said, going back to the work she had to finish by Friday. "What are you getting at?"

"We need golf carts."

Cuddy stopped. "What?"

"You say that a lot, have you noticed? I always thought you weren't particularly stupid, but I guess I was wrong. Must be why you've never learned to hide your cleavage. Not that I'm complaining."

"Insulting me won't help. We're not getting golf carts. Go do your job."

* * *

House walked out of Cuddy's office rather more grumpily than usual.

"Why were you in Cuddy's office?" Wilson asked as he stood by the front desk. "You haven't got a patient, so you don't need authorization for some crazy test, and she didn't call you in, so… you must want something. What is it?"

"I want you to shut up and leave me alone." House retorted.

"No, really. I won't tell."

House kept walking.

"Okay, fine!" Wilson called after him. "I was going to help, but never mind!"

"I don't want your help! I don't need your help! I'm coping just fine on my own, thanks!"

Several of the nurses looked their way, confused, only to ignore them when they realized who it was. Wilson ran after House and managed to slip in between the elevator doors before they closed.

"What are you doing here? I thought I told you to leave me alone. Let me put it in simpler terms: Piss off." House stuck his tongue out at his friend.

"Hey, don't be like that. Whatever it is, it's got to be compelling enough to make you go to Cuddy for it. Hookers not doing you right?"

"Oh, shut up. It was just a whim." The elevator dinged and the doors opened. House limped out as fast as he could (which wasn't very), trying his best to escape from Wilson. "Don't you have dying people to comfort or something?" he asked. He walked into his office and sat down at his desk, pointedly ignoring the younger doctor.

Wilson was undeterred. "Nope, no dying people scheduled until two-thirty. That means we have time for lunch and a talk. I'll buy if you'll talk."

House laughed condescendingly. "You'll buy anyway." he said.

"Well, I'll stop buying if you don't talk."

"Empty threats don't scare me. Go hit on one of the nurses or something." House spun around in his chair, hooking his iPod up to his speaker. The Rolling Stones filled the room as House's way of dismissing his friend.

Wilson struck his Superman pose. "If you don't tell me, I'll go ask Cuddy."

House stuck his tongue out again, looking like a forty-year-old eight-year-old. "Fine, go ahead, see if I care."

So Wilson went ahead.

* * *

"What exactly did House-"

"Golf carts."

"Excuse me?" Wilson stood with his hands on his hips and his eyebrows raised.

"He wanted golf carts. God knows why. There's not even enough room, and it's not like I'd get them anyway."

"Ah." was Wilson's only response. He drifted out of the office, looking thoughtful.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me? Golf carts are a great idea!" Wilson exclaimed as he strode excitedly into House's office. House looked up as Wilson sat in his old yellow armchair.

"And how do you propose we get them, Dr. I-have-no-life-so-any-lame-distraction-is-welcome?"

"Well, you're the genius, you should be the one who comes up with the plan. I'm just here for moral support and to keep you from doing anything too unethical." Wilson smiled indulgently. "Plus, I'll buy you lunch."

House rolled his eyes. "Fine. I needed a break from all this paperwork anyway."

Wilson laughed, and House left the untouched stack of papers to join his friend.

"So how are we going to do this?" Wilson asked as he chewed his salami, cheese, tomato, and mayonnaise sandwich.

House shrugged, his face hidden behind what was possibly the best Reuben he had ever tasted. "We should come here more often." he said, taking a huge bite.

"We'll be able to, if we have golf carts. Come on, you're so quick with differentials."

House was silent for a while as he chewed his sandwich, lost in contemplation. "Okay," he said finally, looking triumphant, "I have an idea, but you'll probably have to sleep with another one of the nurses…"

* * *

On Thursday…

"Dr. Cuddy?"

Cuddy looked up from the paperwork that was still due by Friday and was still not done. "Yes, Brenda?" she asked, a touch of impatience in her voice.

"We've got an order here for 'transportation apparatuses' and I'm not so sure about it. I just wanted you to look over it before you signed it."

Cuddy sighed. Great, more distractions. "Alright." she said, taking the paper from the nurse. She looked it over quickly, her tired eyes barely registering the words before her. She caught the words "transportation apparatuses", as Brenda had said, and her mind replaced it with "gurneys".

"Yes, whatever, that sounds fine." she said, taking a pen from the top of a pile of law fees (courtesy of Dr. House) and signing the form.

As she handed it back to Brenda, the nurse raised her eyebrows and said warningly, "Dr. Cuddy? Are you sure about this? It looks a little suspicious."

But Cuddy was no longer listening. Brenda sighed and left, throwing the form on the pile to be mailed out. Little did she know that she had just set in motion a brilliant and insane plan…

* * *

"So anyway."

"What?"

"We got the crappy narrator."

"No duh."

* * *

ON Monday…

A commotion at the loading dock distracted Cuddy from the little triumph she felt at having finished the paperwork that had been due Friday. As she made her way to the dock, she heard unsettling snippets of conversations.

"-transportation apparatuses-"

"-illegal?"

"-carts-"

"-Dr. House-"

_Oh, God._ she thought, quickening her step. _What's he done this time?_

She soon arrived at what might well have been a crime scene. There was a large crowd of doctors, patients, and random bystanders gathered around it, and a policeman by the driveway, though he was only there to direct traffic. She saw House standing at the front of the crowd, watching a large truck backing into the loading area.

"What the hell is going on, House?" she asked, knowing he'd be only too pleased to boast about his latest scheme.

"I got what I wanted." House grinned.

"And what was that?" Cuddy asked, almost afraid of the answer.

House waved his hand in an encompassing gesture that took in the entire scene that was going on.

"What does any of this have to do with world domination?" Cuddy inquired, and House rolled his eyes.

"Not world domination any more, I told you, I put that on hold." Wilson wandered up, looking sufficiently innocent. "Today, my goal is golf carts."

And then, suddenly, everything clicked in Cuddy's head. Every piece fit in perfectly, and her mouth fell open in astonishment. "How could I be so stupid?" she muttered to herself.

House grinned approvingly at Cuddy's shocked expression. "And they're non-returnable. So we have to keep them."

* * *

Later that day, Cuddy found Brenda in the crowd of people still gathered around the unloading trucks.

"Don't ever, _ever_, let me sign anything I can't reason through again." she said, and Brenda nodded and laughed. "Still," Cuddy added, watching House direct the procedure enthusiastically, "I can't help but wonder if maybe I deserve it, if I couldn't catch it."

* * *

"You know, I never actually had to sleep with that nurse." Wilson said as he and Hose zipped around the hospital on a golf cart.

"Really? Good."

"Yeah, I- wait. Good? Why is it good that I didn't sleep with the nurse? You're usually all for me picking up chicks."

"So?"

"So you must have a reason for thinking it's good. You must-"

"Will you shut up analyzing everything I say and do? What does it mean if I decide to park this damn golf cart right now and come over there and pee all over those pretty shoes of yours?"

"It means you want to show me your-"

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I can't believe Cuddy fell for this!!"

"Why the hell am I holding your cane?"

"'Cause it gets you off. Now shut up."

"Fine. But I get to drive next time."

"You just keep thinking that…"


End file.
